


Husband or Pawn

by 4vrAFangirl



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 20:29:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6872317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4vrAFangirl/pseuds/4vrAFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time since she had rashly taken up the role of assisting Abe in their spy ring, Anna felt important, valued. Through everything, and even with Edmund's speech about seizing the day and making the most of his second chance at life after his escape, the Major has remained ever the perfect gentleman; patient beyond measure in the face of her confusion and indecision, even if he has been unawares of the exact cause or nature of it. Edmund knows, and has made it clear what he wants. But does she know what it is she wants?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Husband or Pawn

**Author's Note:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? I write for all manner of fandoms and ships! Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [afangirlreadsfics](http://www.afangirlreadsfics.tumblr.com)

Anna can’t really say upon later reflection what possessed her. For that matter she can’t even say what possessed him- why Edmund should take a young woman falling to pieces in front of him as a cue to kiss her. She shakes her head a fond hint of a smile gracing her lips. Edmund had certainly not been wrong to say that he is not the same man that he was when the company first arrived in Setauket; but there are still occasionally those fleeting hints of nervous awkwardness now and again when he speaks or interacts with her. Truth be told, while he had utterly disarmed her when he had first extended his offer of friendship, his embarrassed babbling was even then, if Anna was truly honest with herself, terribly endearing. To see him-one who prided himself and was in many cases required to present himself a certain way to his men and the town at large, as a man who could be as fallible and fumbling as any other, the knowledge that he made an exception allowing her to see him this way had been humbling. And looking up at the stars with him some evenings later had been a revelation, for far more than the exquisite view of the skies.

Of course she had always known that all of the bloody coats were more than the scarlet uniforms they wore and the King they all served, but few of them had done anything to impress this upon the community they occupied, certainly none had bothered to with the wife of a Rebel sympathizer. None except Hewlett. _Edmund_ , Anna thought, fingers reaching up to trace her lips, remembering their earlier encounter, and the feeling of the embrace of his arms wrapped gently around her.

She had not been entirely sure what she felt for him until he was violently stolen away from Whitehall by a band of rebels. The irony of it didn't escape her, even if there was no amusement to be found in it; but Anna knew all too well while she loved and would worry endlessly for Ben, or Caleb should they find themselves in similar circumstances, this was different. _Hewlett was different_. Different even from Abe. Abraham has changed so much in the last year, had allowed the war and spying to change him, and Anna could not help but to believe it was for the worse. She loved him still, some small part of her that had known him since childhood it seemed would continue to do so always, but not in the same way she was coming to realize that she cared for Major Hewlett. Not anymore, at least.

Edmund not only cared for her, he took care of her, and continued to do so in spite of the fact she had given him no reassurances of his feelings being reciprocated, or any hints of what her own affections might be. He protected her from Simcoe, and managed to make her feel impossibly welcome in a home where no one but he truly wanted her. He was genuinely interested in the things she had to say, and respected her opinions, even sometimes allowing them to influence his own decisions. For the first time since she had rashly taken up the role of assisting Abe in their spy ring, Anna felt important, _valued_. Through everything, and even with his speech about seizing the day and making the most of his second chance at life after his escape, the Major has remained ever the perfect gentleman; patient beyond measure in the face of her confusion and indecision, even if he has been unawares of the exact cause or nature of it. Edmund knows, and has made it clear what he wants. But does she know what it is she wants?

Anna doesn't want him to die. She doesn't want to lose her unexpected and newfound friendship with him, but it's substantially more than just that. She doesn't want to spend the rest of her life tormenting herself with hypotheticals, and wondering what it might be like to be with a man who loves her the way Edmund does, who truly respects and treats her as his equal, who would worship and nurture her the way Edmund would, just as he has already demonstrated he can and would do.

"Major," she calls softly, knuckles wrapping gently against the doorframe to call his attention. It is late in the evening, but he is only just now returning from the garrison, and his door was still open to the landing when she ventured upstairs. "Edmund," she tries again softly when he doesn't immediately look up from what he is doing. He starts at the sound of his Christian name, looking over at her, a bright and sincere smile lighting up his face as his chair scrapes a little against the floor in his hurry to stand and greet her, but she shakes her head, quickly taking the few steps to cross the room and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to stop him.

He stares at her hand where it rests for a moment, as though he can't quite believe that it might be truly there. He always seems to marvel when she has the occasion to touch him, and Anna finds that his responsiveness to her and her touch both thrills and saddens her a little. How often has he been deprived of such fleeting trifles of affection and warmth before now? How many others had the privilege of getting to know Edmund, and decided they found him wanting for some petty reason or other? Her fingers flex a little in his defense at the thought, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze, before Anna is gently letting her hand return to her side with a tender smile.

"Please," she assures him, "don't get up on my account. It's only, you missed dinner this evening, so I thought I would bring you a plate," she gestures to her other hand which is balancing a small plate with several generous sampling of the meal he missed.

It is not in fact the only reason Anna has come to see him, but she doesn't wish to disturb his late meal, or disrupt whatever he had been in the midst of working on. _Sketching_ , it seems from the look of the notebook on the other side of his arm; a map of Setauket and some of its more significant landmarks. She hadn't been aware he did any drawing, but decides for the moment against calling attention to it. If he wants to share this with her, as he has done with his telescope and love of the heavens, Anna is confident that he will when he is ready to do so. Some people's sketches, she knows, are almost a kind of diary, and intensely personal and guarded things.

"Thank you," he beams, looking over the plate with gratefulness and hunger. "I was resigning myself to something cold and far more meager after returning so late. This looks wonderful. Won't you stay," he adds hopefully, seeming to notice her indecision about whether or not to remain, or come back later for what she wishes to discuss.

"That is I- I don't wish to keep you up if you were preparing to retire for the evening, but I do always enjoy your company. Very much," he admits with a kind of shy twist of his lips at the corners of his mouth. He was so confident a few days ago when he has proposed to her, Anna cannot help but wonder with a pang of regret, if perhaps some of it has been sapped, drained away, because she has kept him waiting for her answer. She won't detain him any longer, she decides nodding and taking a seat at the edge of the bed to sit beside him at his desk, noticing a little tension in his shoulders falling away as she does so.

"Then I shall not deprive you of it," she smiles.

"Edmund," she tries softly after a few comfortably silent minutes between his bites of food. "I wondered if I might ask you something."

"Anything," he nods genially, setting down his utensils, and twisting a little in his chair to face her to give her his undivided attention.

"I realized I never gave you an answer. Before when we spoke about your proposal," Anna broaches gently, and suddenly that tension is back, though he's making a valiant effort of trying to conceal it.

"I have considered it," she admits now she's finally broached the topic of his proposal again. The small easy smile that had accompanied his words immediately after she pointed out she had not yet given him an answer, with his reassurances that he understood her need to take some time to think on it, flickers and fades. It's faint; only there if one is really looking and knows what to look for in his face, but the Major looks uncharacteristically nervous, perhaps even fearful of her answer now and Anna knows she has the power in this moment to utterly crush his spirit; but she cannot even begin to fathom doing so. "But then I remembered and was thinking about the night you brought over Abigail's gift," she continues, and now he definitely looks nervous. "'Ever since you have had the opportunity of knowing me,' you said," she reminds him quoting his declaration of his feelings. "You told me that night that you had looked into it: that I could divorce Selah; but then you only offered to establish a kind of friendship between us. Strictly platonic..."

Edmund cringes ever so slightly as though this whole conversation is one he might like to duck out of, but he remains attentive, nodding for her to continue. "I didn't recognize it as such, then, but in retrospect it seems as though you may have wanted to offer a different kind of proposal to me then. Rather more like the one you gave me last week?"

"I loved you even then, if that is what you are asking," he nods in confirmation, and Anna can't help but notice and find the way his cheeks flush slightly, terribly endearing. "I'll admit I'm not terribly smooth or experienced when it comes to- women, or matters of romance, but you had just been through quite an ordeal finding out your husband was still alive, then almost being taken along with him and the retreating rebels, jumping ship and swimming to shore... I wasn't certain that you would be receptive to the idea of anything more than friendship then. But I was more than happy to cherish whatever part of yourself you were willing to share with me.”

Anna nods. _Cherished_ , yes, that was how he made her feel. Edmund had never once given her cause to believe that he took her or any time that she gave him for granted. And his choice of words does not escape her notice. There is not an ounce of ownership implied when he speaks about their friendship. She is not ‘giving’ herself or some part of herself to him, as she was expected to with Selah, or Abe, but choosing to _share_ it. "But you are certain now," she asks with a small amused smile, already suspecting his answer.

"Not at all," the Major replies honestly without a moment’s hesitation, and something of a rueful smile. "But as I said, I have been changed since then. My imprisonment forced me to face my own mortality and made it more real than ever before. I resolved myself if I ever got free of it that I would make my feelings clear, and at least try. Mrs. Strong, if your feelings are unchanged- if the most that I may expect between us is friendship- I will be disappointed of course, but I _will_ persevere. That is, I do not want the thought of my disappointments to influence your decision. Time as they say, heals all. And I want you to know, that I would admire and respect you all the same. I should like to continue to remain your friend, even if you do not wish to marry me- for as long as you should wish for it. One word from you, however, and I will never bother you again with any more romantic gestures or requests," he promises solemnly, raising a hand to rest over his heart.

"Thank you," Anna replies sincerely, before realizing her mistake in repeating the very same words she had done when he last proposed to her, before she had excused herself and given him no answer. She is grateful though, because even now, when she holds his heart in her hands, he's still more respectful of her and whatever decision she makes than anyone ever has been with her before. No one, not Abe, Selah, Caleb, or Ben have ever offered her the kind of mutual respect, the freedom Edmund has done, and with something as personal and sacred as his heart and future. He nods, and she can see the way that happy and hopeful shine in his brown eyes dims a little with the thought that he has now ensured she is unencumbered to reject him, and Anna’s heart aches a little that he doesn't look much surprised at that prospect of being turned down, rather that he suspected it. How often has he faced such disappointment and rejection? Has any woman given him the time of day to actually get to know the man he is, and how few of them have appreciated it; appreciated him? Anna is all too familiar with the feeling of rejection and of being overlooked. She won't subject him to it a moment longer.

"Edmund," she interjects softly, scooting herself closer to the edge of the bed, one hand reaching out to cup his chin and lift his gaze from where it has fallen to his feet back up to her, before letting it go. "I do wish to marry you," she acknowledges, with a small smile.

He looks as though he wishes to say something, but for a moment only manages to open and close his mouth several times in astonishment. "Oh," he ejaculates finally. His hands come up together in front of him, twisting a bit awkwardly as though he isn't certain how to best employ them, as his face suddenly erupts into the brightest and purest joy Anna has ever seen, which she cannot help but to return. "Oh my dear Anna," he whispers, awed, hands still unsure of themselves as he hesitates. "May I kiss you," he asks both eager and a little unsure.

Anna cannot help but laugh softy at his request. "I'm sorry," she apologizes quickly, when he looks a little confused at her response as if he’s miscalculated somehow. "It is only that you have never asked me before," Anna explains one finger stopping his lips before he can offer any sort of apology. "You may kiss me-“she continues in a whisper pressing a gentle kiss to his brow to soothe his worry lines. “Whenever you like...” she says with another kiss this time to one cheek. “However you wish...” she assures him with a kiss to his other cheek. “For as long as we both live," she smiles softly, gently leaning forward and allowing her lips to replace her finger against his mouth in the first kiss she has ever initiated between them. Edmund, still registering the full weight of her words, and the fact that this is a kiss she has begun between them, seems to take a moment to respond, but Anna's patience and perseverance are rewarded soon enough when he scoots to the edge of his chair to chase her lips, and lets one of his hands fall about her waist and the other slipping in behind her neck to cradle her head and draw her in closer.

"I'm sorry," Anna apologizes with a small chuckle of amusement, when the two of them have finally split apart for air, foreheads gently resting against one another.

"Whatever for," Edmund asks uncomprehendingly, quick to stamp out any uncertainty she might have, a little concerned that she may be apologizing for their kiss.

"I've been selfish, keeping you from your meal. Your plate will be getting cold by now, if it isn't so already," she gestured to the desk where his food has sat untouched since they began speaking, but Edmund shakes his head.

"Whenever I wish, however I like, for as long as we both live," he repeats softly with something of a mischievous schoolboy smirk on his face Anna has never seen before, but already decided she likes, as he steals a quick peck before pulling back a little further to better meet her gaze.

"There's still so much to talk about," he says, although he still seems somewhat awed by the fact that Anna has agreed to marry him.

"Nothing that cannot wait a little, at the very least until you see your stomach tended to," Anna prompts him with a smile, nodding towards his desk.

"Of course," he seems hardly to notice or think of his food now, but his expression softens at the thought that she is expressing such open concern for his welfare now they have clarified their relationship with one another, and will soon begin to plan their shared future. "Besides now I am the one being selfish, it grows increasingly more late. You must be getting tired. Perhaps tomorrow, after breakfast, you wouldn't mind taking a walk with me and we can begin to discuss arrangements," he asks.

"I shall look forward to it," she nods with a smile, which he returns.

"Good night Anna, my dear," he offers gently drawing her hand up to kiss the back of it. It's an almost silly gesture after the far more serious and intimate kiss they have just shared with each other, but heartwarmingly sweet and tender all the same, just like the man himself.

"Pleasant dreams, Edmund," Anna replies, leaning in to drop chaste kiss on his brow once more before leaving for her own room.  
…………………  
Breakfast is a quiet and tense affair as nobody is quite certain what to say to one another since Abe and Thomas fled the house. Even so, however, and despite the glares she can positively feel radiating from Richard and Mary whenever they believe she is not looking, Anna is in good spirits. They are sure to be becoming irritated with their inability to threaten or otherwise banish the subtle hints of a smile from her face, but she cannot help it. But neither it seems can the major, because there's still much to discuss before they make any sort of announcement about it; but Anna finds she must to stop herself from looking over at him too much before his bright smiles in her direction give them both away. Finally breakfast breaks up and the pair of them are afforded the opportunity to slip away for a quiet walk along the woods and seaside cliffs.

Edmund waits until they are safely out of sight of the house before gently taking her hand in his while they walk, and Anna smiles gently squeezing it with affection before lacing her fingers through his, relishing the warmth of his hands and his affection, and wondering how she ever believed the man to be cold. "Will you be alright walking for long on your foot," she asks carefully. "We could go and sit to talk, by the platform for your telescope perhaps, if it would be kinder." He smiles, but shakes his head.

"I shall be fine," Edmund promises as they continue on. "Now, you may recall when I last spoke to you about the possibility of divorcing your- rebel husband," he begins cautiously. Any other of the officers would have called Selah a _traitor_ , by his pause it seems even Hewlett was initially inclined to do so, but decided on something a little softer out of respect for any remaining sentiments she might have for him. "The process can take some time. Much though it pains me to say it, it may be in our best interests to say nothing to anyone else of our engagement until your divorce is complete," he acknowledged. "But perhaps I can use some of my influence to persuade Richard to expedite the necessary paperwork and records."

Anna rather doubted that Richard Woodhull would be inclined towards any favors that might benefit her, but he did seem to appreciate and have made a friend in the Major, and if she wishes to keep him safe, their marriage must happen sooner rather than later, even if it occurs under false pretenses. "I have something that may help," she admits, pausing a moment to pull a folded letter from the pocket of her dress, and handing it to him to read.

"Selah is in Philadelphia now, and has met someone else, and wishes to marry her. He's arranged to purchase a divorce and has asked me to sign. I confess I received this weeks ago, but have been busy pretending that I didn't," she admits softly. "Not out of any lingering desire for him," she hurried on, before the other man can give in to any self-doubts or lose confidence in her answer about his own proposal. "It's just that I- I never imagined myself as a divorcee. I was never in love with Selah the way-"

"The way you were with Abraham," he nods, looking a little downcast at the thought of the farmer who had her heart first.

"Yes," Anna admits. "But Selah was my husband, and I once had every intention of keeping our vows, even if I have fallen short since then,” she explains guiltily, attempting to look away from his penetrating gaze, before his hand reaches up to cup her chin and stop her with a small encouraging smile, and a wordless shake of his head. Many a god-fearing man wouldn’t wish to marry her knowing what she has done, wouldn’t trust her not to repeat her crimes again, with Abraham, or someone else. But Edmund knows, has always known about their affection for each other, and later their affair. He knows that she is currently still married to a rebel, but still seeks her hand, her heart. It thrills and makes her fearful to think that perhaps if he were to find out her own role in this war, whether or not the knowledge would finally be too much for him to forgive and overlook, but she cannot think of herself now. She has already decided Hewlett’s life is the more important concern, and for the first time in far too long this is a decision which is entirely her own. She will bear out the consequences when the time comes.

"But my heart is yours now," she continues squeezing his hand a little where she holds it in her own, as they continue to walk and talk. "Not Selah's. Or Abraham's," she promises stepping out in front to halt their progress for a moment so she can press her lips to his and kiss him properly. “ _Yours_ , Edmund.”

"He is asking you to assume fault," he says with a slight frown, when they have finally pulled apart once more and resumed their stroll, and he further scanning the letter.

"And to admit to an extramarital affair with Abraham Woodhull," Anna confirms. "Which is why if we are to marry, it cannot happen here."

"But you- you live here," he replies clearly uncertain, brow furrowed in confusion. And somehow this only serves to make Anna’s heart swell all the more for the man in front of her, because he does not live here, or at least has not always done so the way that she has. His home, the mother he writes to, perhaps friends, are back in Scotland, but he’s said nothing yet of taking her back, of taking her away from the home she has always known, even though it would be all too easy, and any other man might expect as much of his wife, or even insist upon based on her transgressions. Edmund is however, as she has long since seen, not like most other men; not like any Anna has ever known before. He is, as she asserted with Simcoe, and even Edmund himself, a good and decent man, selfless, and thinking foremost of her happiness. And she has repaid him with lies. Anna knows she doesn’t truly deserve, hasn’t earned the respect or love that Edmund gives her so free- and unreservedly, but she cannot bring herself to refuse it, even before she’s been presented with an opportunity to save his life.

"We will not concede to this blackmail," he decides firmly, giving her back the letter with a shake of his head. "Selah Strong is a traitor to the Crown and we can petition the Magistrate for a divorce on the grounds of desertion."

"Edmund," Anna interjects patiently, one hand gently staying him, coming to rest over his breast, feeling the steady drum of his heartbeat beneath it. "They aren't lies," she offers up regretfully. "I abandoned him-his ship- when he was fleeing town, and I _was_ unfaithful to him. Besides Judge Woodhull despises me."

"No, not all," Edmund begins shaking his head. He cannot truly believe that his friend could hate the woman he loves so dearly. _Except... She had been back at the tavern when he had returned from his ordeal in Connecticut._

"He holds me in no favor," she insists with a frown. "I- I couldn't sleep for thinking of you when you were captured could scarcely eat, but at least while I was stayed at Whitehall I was well-placed if there was any news… I could keep a vigil for you."

"I am sorry, Anna. It pains me to think you suffered any on my account," Edmund whispers softly. "But why did you then leave Whitehall?"

"I was not given a choice,” Anna replies honestly with a sad smile, confirming his suspicions and deepening his concern. "You were gone so long and no one seemed inclined to mount a rescue. I was so afraid for you. I was desperate. I knew Simcoe to be... fond of me, so I sought to use that to convince him to find and free you. I never suspected that he might try to-" She shakes her head pushing back tears to get through the rest of what she needs to say, the thought that she had been so deceived by his intentions for the man she has come to care for, that she may nearly have hastened his death at Simcoe’s hands is almost unbearable. "He asked for a kiss- as payment for helping to rescue you and bring you back to Setauket. Then he held me there far longer than was decent to be sure everyone in town would see it. Judge Woodhull included."

"Well then it is simply a misunderstanding," Edmund says looking relieved. "I will speak to him and clear the matter up. As for Simcoe, he should consider himself lucky to find a speedy death at the hands of the rebels," the Major frowns, thinking of what he might do if he were confronted with that demon again.

"There is still the affair," Anna points out. "I won't allow my shame to become yours."

"Anna nothing you can do can cause me to feel shame," he insists. " _Nothing_."

"If you truly mean that... You'll go away with me,” Anna pleads.

"Where," he asks still rather disbelieving that she might wish to leave everything she has ever known behind so readily.

"To your home. To Scotland."

"But you'd still be married,” Edmund whispers softly. “We'd be guilty of _bigamy_ ," he points out, voice laced with concern.

"I have been married for as long as you have known and loved me. Coveting is no less or greater a sin in the eyes of God, is it? My marriage wouldn't follow us across the ocean. We can start a new life together," she presses on, and while her primary thoughts and motivation is to see him safe from Abe or any who might seek to harm him, Anna has to admit she longs for the opportunity of a fresh start as well. "This is _our chance_ , Edmund."

“Then we shall seize it,” he agrees finally, gently taking her hand in his to kiss it, before they begin walking back towards the Garrison so that he might check for news of Simcoe, and escort Anna to the tavern.  
…………………  
Dinner that evening is an even greater disaster than breakfast had been. _Why? Why hadn’t she been able to for once just keep her mouth shut, when Richard had begun talking about raising Abraham and Thomas after losing his wife?_ Might the evening have gone differently? Richard has made it no secret with her that he disapproves of her lodging at Whitehall with them, but now that tensions have reached a boiling point, Edmund may well have lost one of his only friends here, and is determined the two of them should remain and marry here in Setauket. She cannot be certain that her marrying him, the fact that she will be his wife, will be enough to protect him if they should stay. He will still know that Abe is Samuel Culper; will still be seen as a potential threat to the ring, even if he has given his word to let the young Woodhull family escape unhampered and unharmed. Abraham is resolved to see him dead.

“Edmund, please,” she tries softly, her hand reaching out for his own again where he stands in front of the now otherwise empty table.

“I don’t care what _Richard_ or _anyone else_ says. I _love_ you,” he insists loudly, though perhaps louder and more harshly than he had originally intended, still coming down from his fight with Richard, because he softens both his voice and expression a little and allows his hand to turn over to hold hers, before he continues. “For who you are, and for all that you are. And I want the _world_ to know it,” he assures her.

“No. No, you can’t stay. We can’t stay,” she tries again, desperate to convince him.

“What, because of your reputation?”

“Because… because of the danger,” she insists, scrambling to find a proper justification that might persuade him to reconsider the idea of staying on here. “B-because of Simcoe.”

“Yes, and that is being taken care of,” he replies confidently.

“You don’t know that.” _You can’t know that yet_ , Anna thinks, _and he is only half of the threat._

“I am done running, Anna,” he insists. “If not for you, I would have fled as soon as I came back to Connecticut. But you gave me the strength to stay on. It would be wrong of me to now encourage you to flee from your home, _especially_ when I’m capable of keeping you safe, _here_.” Anna frowns a little continuing to look worried, knowing all too well it is not her own safety that concerns her, but his. “ _Now_ write your husband, and tell him that you agree to his terms of divorce, and then we’ll be married immediately. Though we will surely have to find another magistrate to do it.”

“I’m sorry Edmund,” Anna whispers softly after a moment’s silence between them, when she finally lets go his hand, and they attempt to return to their meal without the rest of the household. “About speaking that way to Judge Woodhull. It was… unkind. And he is right in saying so. This is his house. I should not have spoke, and I should have held my tongue rather than caused a division between you both.”

“I admire your tongue, as much as any part of you,” he soothes with a small rueful smile towards the empty seats opposite them. “I can always count on you to speak your mind. It was not particularly prudent perhaps, but there was nothing dishonest in your words either, or it shouldn’t have upset him so. The division was already done, when I failed in keeping Abraham from taking young Thomas with him from this house. -In any case he will have to learn sooner or later that I will no longer stand for the petty way he treats and speaks to you, if he wishes to maintain any sort of friendship between us.”

Anna nods. “Perhaps, still sometimes I wish that I had more of your forethought and self-control,” she admits softly.

“And I, your bravery and the courage of your convictions,” he replies fondly. “But that you see is why we are so good for one another,” he smiles, before raising his glass to her, and taking a small sip, as the pair return once more to their meal. _We are fated_ , he thinks, recalling when he had spoken to her memory while he was imprisoned.

Anna smiles, and makes an attempt to eat, but cannot truly appreciate or taste the food. _Is she good for him? Would Edmund’s life even be under threat were it not for his affections for her bringing him so close to the truth about her and Abraham’s activities for Washington?_ Anna isn’t so sure. Certainly he makes her happy. His words to Mary- ‘ _she makes me more happy than you can imagine_ ’ echo in her mind between the soft tinkling of cutlery and cups while they finish dinner. Anna wants to believe it, there doesn’t seem any good reason why Hewlett should be lying about that to Richard or Mary. But the thought that he might eventually uncover her loyalties and activities in the spy ring, and what it might do to him continues to eat at her. Getting him as far away from Setauket, from Abraham, and this damned war, as possible seems the best and perhaps the only way to save him, but Anna cannot help but wonder whether or not he will thank her once he realizes her role in it all.

They spend a little time together in the lounge after dinner, Edmund doing his best to continue to instruct her and improve her skills with the pianoforte. The closeness between them- their sides nearly flush against one another on the bench, holds a new significance, and is all the more precious, if perhaps a little improper; but there is no one there to observe, and Anna has no parents or guardian left to object on her behalf. As the evening grows later, Anna excuses herself under the pretense of writing to her husband about their divorce to determine the best way to truly dissolve her marriage. Until dinner and his exchange with Richard swayed him by playing to his determination and sense of honor, he had been willing to run away with her, willing even to ignore her pre-existing and still binding marriage to another man, such was the strength and depth of his feelings and devotion to her; the very thought was almost overwhelming, incredible from a man who had once presented himself as being all about _law, order,_ and _authority._ Now they might remain Anna must come up with another way of keeping anyone from discovering her forgery, but most importantly keeping Edmund far from the hands of Abe, Simcoe, or Selah. Her mind is so occupied in the task of creating a new plan she doesn’t even notice Richard Woodhull’s presence until he has successfully ambushed her on the landing.

“You may have pulled the wool over the Major’s eyes with your feminine whiles, but your little tavern wench tricks won’t work on me,” Richard accuses, cornering her and blocking the only means of her escape besides backing down the stairs to where Edmund is still reading in the sitting room. “I _know_ you have been in on this spying business with Abraham. And I have little doubt _you_ are the reason he’s in this mess that he is now in the first place. I will find the proof of it. _Your father_ had a habit of picking the wrong side too.”

It’s nothing that Anna hasn’t been aware the man might think of her, but it’s still a shock to hear his pronouncements out loud, where she had previously been given little besides a cold shoulder and silent treatment. He is nothing short of ferocious in his attempts to tear her down now, and somehow seems to loom large over her despite the fact he is now settled into his dressing gown and leaning on his cane. She has never held Richard Woodhull in any sort of fatherly-regard the way it seems Mary does, but Anna cannot help but to feel like a small child being scolded; distinctly uncomfortable and vulnerable. There is an instinct, a desire to defend herself, but with it the knowledge that she has none. Nothing he is saying is untrue. She wishes that she could tell him how much she regrets bringing his son into all of this, how much the spy ring and everything that has happened as a result have changed the young man she once knew and loved into something far darker and more sinister than she could ever have believed possible. How much she wishes she might have done some things differently. That would be the truth, even if it is not much of a defense, but she knows that none of this is anything that the judge is ready or willing to hear now, least of all from her.

“And if you think the fact that Abraham still has some sort of misguided feelings for you will protect you, and entice me to keep your secret, you are gravely mistaken. You will get no sympathy from me.”

Anna is just about to reply- although even she isn’t sure of what- when the older man develops a disturbing gleam in his eyes for something that seems to be for something just past her, and Anna knows what it must be. The Major. _Edmund_ , she thinks as she turns about and confirms it, heart suddenly thudding hard in her chest, and stomach plummeting with sickening speed as the color drains from her face, even as she is grateful for his interruption. _How much had he heard?_ She knows better than to try to plead with Richard against repeating spewing any of his earlier accusations. If anything, if he sees her face, if he reads just how much she truly does care about Hewlett, it will only serve to further encourage him to speak out against the woman he sees as responsible for breaking up his family. Instead, she keeps her eyes fixed on Edmund as he makes his way up the last few steps, and comes to stand beside her, taking her by surprise when he clasps her hand gently in his own, before turning to address Richard.

“I thought I made myself clear at dinner before you took your leave, you will address and speak to her with respect,” Hewlett says impatiently.

“I respected _you_ Major Hewlett. I have enjoyed our many talks, our friendship since your arrival here, but this,” Richard replies, shaking his head. “This is madness. You _must_ see that. _Anna Strong is_ …”

“To be my wife,” Hewlett interrupts.”Whether you are the Magistrate that makes that possible, or not.”

“You are a fool. She is as much a traitor as Abraham,” Richard replies, an angry looking vein beginning to pop against his brow as his frustration and temper mounts. “She seduced my son into this rebel cause, into spying for the enemy, mark my words. And this marriage you’re proposing can only be her attempt to use you to further her cause. She would as soon have you made a pawn as a husband.” Anna feels sick, she is certain that her hand is becoming clammy where Edmund is holding it, but his grasp never falters, fingers never twitch to let her go, even in the face of such accusations.

“Consider them marked,” Hewlett nods with a grim frown. “Now mark _mine_. I have appreciated our friendship too, and I should much prefer to maintain it, if that is possible. I have many times asked for and considered your counsel in the matters concerning this town, and found it to be valuable. But do not attempt to impose your prejudices on my personal affairs again. If you continue to push, if you force me to choose between you, I do not believe you will much enjoy my choice. Now, if you will excuse us, I believe Mrs. Strong was planning to retire for the evening.”

It feels wrong to call him _Edmund_ now, Anna thinks as they make their way past a still fuming Richard to the next set of stairs towards their respective rooms. He’s still for some reason beyond Anna’s comprehension, holding her hand in his own, despite the fact he’s healed and practiced enough with his disfigured right foot to walk the stairs without assistance.

“He doesn’t have any evidence,” Edmund confides in her softly, before she has found a way to make her tongue work again, squeezing her hand softly in what can only be meant to reassure and comfort her. “Only his suspicions. If he did, he would have brought it to my attention long before now to keep you away from Abraham.” Anna doesn’t know whether to feel comforted or confused by his words. _Does this mean that he doesn’t believe Richard’s accusations? Is it possible he has already written them off as simply a side-effect of the judge’s prejudices towards her father and family?_ If that is indeed the case, this could be an opportunity to slip under the fence once more, and escape at least Edmund’s suspicions of her, keeping her role in the spy ring intact. Except that she cannot be certain continuing to be a part of the ring is what she wants anymore. It was hardly dishonest when she told Abe the ring didn’t actually need her. Edmund- _Major Hewlett_ -does, even if he doesn’t know it, or would understand why.

“Major,” Anna whispers softly, voice trembling a little.

“Edmund, please,” he reminds her with a patient smile and a shake of his head. “With you I am Edmund.” She wonders for a moment if he knows just how true those words really are, now that Anna has come to know him, she can never fall entirely back on thinking of him as simply his title and position in his Majesty’s Royal Army. He can never simply be the enemy anymore, not with her, much to Abe’s disapproval and disgust. Nothing is as black and white as she had thought it was when she had first begun spying, least of all Edmund Hewlett. But that hardly means that he will continue to wish for this kind of familiarity between them once he has discovered everything Richard has accused her of is true.

“I-“ she begins uncertainly, avoiding the use of a name at all rather than choosing between formality to put distance between them, or something more personal to appeal to his sympathies.

“ _Anna_ ,” he interrupts softly, causing her gaze to snap up to his own in surprise. “I told you at dinner, but as I shall be happy to remind you for the rest of our days on this Earth; I love you. For who you are, and for _all_ that you are. I am not quite so great a fool as everyone seems keen to think me to be. I have suspected for some time now that perhaps your sympathies and loyalties might lie somewhere else besides the crown. My only hope is that I have at least proved myself worthy, and earned at least a little of that respect and loyalty for myself. That is why you asked about whether I thought about going home, why you suggested running away, isn’t it? To protect me? I wish you would tell me from what or with whom I should be more vigilant. We can fight this _together_ , Anna. I would share your burdens, if you will but let me.”

“But… how can you trust me,” Anna blurts out, quite before she can stop herself, mouth agape in astonishment. “I have used you, taken advantage of your kindness and your feelings for me.”

“And I have let you,” he replies frankly. “Richard has known about Abraham’s true allegiance and activities for far longer than he has yet admitted to me, but he chose to ignore it, and when he couldn’t do that he did his best to intervene and to protect him. Perhaps that is why I’ve offended him so, he believes me to be making the same mistakes he did.”

“How can you be certain you aren’t?”

“I can’t. Not entirely. But if there is anything that I know about you, one thing that I am sure of- it is that you have a kind and tender heart, and you follow it with the best of intentions, even if it sometimes leads you astray. If it is not an entirely pure and penitent heart, it is at the very least, a _good_ one. We all have our shortcomings; I’m certainly not perfect either. But I have never known you to be cruel, which is why I cannot believe that everything that we have shared has been falsehoods, even if some of it may have begun that way. I cannot believe you would agree to marry me and feel absolutely _no_ kind of affection or fondness for me. Tell me truly, am I a fool to think so?”

“No, I…” Anna replies immediately, eyes brimming with tears, before shaking her head. “It isn’t foolish. However it may have begun, I… But you don’t truly wish to hear this-“ she stops, cutting herself off, because surely telling him that she has found herself becoming fond, even beginning to fall in love with him, can only make things more difficult for him.

“But I _do_. I always want to hear what you have to say, even if it hurts. I understand if perhaps you don’t feel precisely the same sentiments that I do, but is there hope that you could come to do so one day,” he asks, and the earnestness, the tinge of hope that lies in his eyes, in his words, make Anna’s heart ache for what she has done to him and put him through. “The last thing I should ever wish would be to bind you to another husband who can only burden and bring you unhappiness. I couldn’t bear it.”

“You- You would still marry me?”

“Anna, I would marry you this moment were it possible, and you would have me,” he admits.

“You should hate me,” Anna whispers, mind still reeling.

“Would you prefer that? I must confess I do not much think that I would ever be able to,” he admits with a sheepish sort of smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“No, of course I wouldn’t. But I don’t understand how it’s possible you don’t. How can you even talk about getting married now, when you are a Major in his Majesty’s army, and I- I am a traitor, a spy for the Rebels? Richard will not give up looking for proof.”

“Are you determined to continue your work,” Edmund asks softly, appraising her. Anna is almost ashamed at how easily she shakes her head, at the thought of all those she drew into this silent and secret conflict who all had something to lose, people to protect, but now she might lose Edmund and this new and fragile thing they’ve built between them the cost for her is too steep. “Then we will make sure there is no proof for him to find.”

“You cannot silence him, and most of the town is already against me. He doesn’t need proof to turn them against me- against you, if you go through with marrying me. Edmund, I have committed _treason_.”

“And earlier you suggested committing bigamy so that we could be together, and I said _yes_ ,” he replies, although the two are nothing like the same thing. “I promised you when I proposed that I would be your protector in life; that I would commit myself to your happiness, but the truth is I am already committed- as your husband or simply your friend. Marrying you would simply put me in a better, closer position to do so. What is it you would you have me do, Anna? Hang you? I couldn’t shoot Abraham when he stood a few feet in front of me, and while I admit I have grown fond of the Woodhulls in my time here, I am infinitely more invested in your life and future than his. A future without you in it isn’t one I wish to think on or be a part of.”

Anna has done her best to hold herself together, but finds that here she has reached her limit. The tears that she has been fighting, struggling to blink back boil over, pouring hot and fat down her cheeks, even as she sniffs, and tries in vain to reign them back in.

“I seem to be exceedingly good at making you cry these last few days,” Edmund whispers regretfully. “But is there any chance that I could make you happy?”

“Yes,” Anna lets out with a silent sob, falling back against the wall behind her at the top of the stair, and sliding down to the floor. Edmund is slow, careful to kneel, but only because of his unbalanced feet, as he seems to consider pulling her into his arms, before deciding against it until he has her answer, and is instead quick to take a seat just beside her. “Yes, Edmund,” she whispers, allowing her head to fall against his shoulder, to lean on him for support. “You already have. So many times. You have been one of the few, at times the only one thing, which has these last few months. When you were captured… the thought of losing you… Edmund, I- I know you don’t have much reason to believe or trust me, but I do care- I _love_ you,” she corrects softly, admitting aloud what she couldn’t to Abe, or even to herself until now. “More than I ever thought possible, even if perhaps my past actions may seem to suggest otherwise.”

“I believe you,” Edmund smiles softly, gently allowing one arm to slide between her back and the wall so he can embrace and comfort her. “So why don’t you start by telling me what you are truly afraid of, and we can sort the rest of it out,” he encourages softly, one hand gently taking hold of her chin to pull her gaze back up from the floor to meet his own eyes. “Because I’d like for your best reason for marrying me to be because you want, as I do, to spend the rest of our lives together, not just because it might keep me from harm.” Anna nods softly, curling into him where he sits beside her for a moment and simply soaking in the warmth of his embrace and the comfort he is offering her, before slowly standing and offering her hand to help him up from the floor so they can retire to one of their rooms to talk where the two of them won’t be stumbled upon or interrupted.


End file.
